The Last Fort

(Saturday morning in Sheffield. Rain on the window of a small bedroom.)

Freya: I've got the big blanket. It's better than the green one. You get the chairs.

Ivy: Mum says this is the last one.

Freya: The last fort?

Ivy: The last one in here. The men come on Monday. New paint, new floor, new beds.

Freya: But the fort needs this corner. The wall goes here, and the board goes on top.

Ivy: I know.

Freya: Where do the pillows go in a new room?

Ivy: Same place. Pillows don't care about paint.

(They put the board across two chairs and hang the blanket over it.)

Freya: It's smaller than last time.

Ivy: It's not smaller. You're bigger.

Freya: Oh.

Ivy: Get in. We've got all day, and it's free.

Freya: Everything's free in here.

Ivy: That's the rule. It's always been the rule.

(Rain on the window. Nobody comes out until lunch.)

Freya: Ivy?

Ivy: Mm?

Freya: I hope the new room's the same.

Ivy: It won't be. That's what paint's for.

Freya: Has it got a corner?

Ivy: Every room's got four. You can have two, and I'll take two.

Freya: And the board?

Ivy: The board comes with us.